Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Hansa Pilsner

Hansa Pilsner

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

Lesedi Thwala

Featured Poem:

Swartjie Bartman

Featured Poem:

Swartjie Bartman

Jinne, hoekom het julle swartjies sulke mooi boude?
You hideously hiss and hoot while your
Tongue turbulently twirls twixt your teeth and your
Bulge bulbously bulges between your legs
Claiming that I should take it as a compliment
and be an accomplice and acquiesce you
a slice of the sjokolade-koek
because I am too beautiful for a black girl
and therefore should not be wearing a doek
en ek moet bly ommie-hoek
so that jou vrou en kinders don’t see
that you do not play by die boek
want swart en wit moet nooit meng nie
maar jy wil nou kroek
and I should know that my behind is all I am good for
en glad nie meer as dit ooit soek
ag nee! My skin is too dark
my English isn’t sharp
and my hair is so coarse!
But my butt…
My butt does wonders for you, of course!
So you drive past dark alleys hoping I will be there
So you can feed your fetid fetish and hope and wish that Oom Hans
Of Tant Sallie don’t see you met ‘n swartjie in jou bakkie
En as jy my sien,
You slow down and slobber
And flash me a twee-honderd-rand noot
And scream: “Kom vat meisietjie, gaan koop vir jou brood”
And you disclose your disgust
At my disapproval and drive past, while people stare at you aghast
Want jy kry dit nie man!
Dis duidelik dat ek is jou Swartjie Bartman

Jinne, hoekom het julle swartjies sulke mooi boude?
You hideously hiss and hoot while your
Tongue turbulently twirls twixt your teeth and your
Bulge bulbously bulges between your legs
Claiming that I should take it as a compliment
and be an accomplice and acquiesce you
a slice of the sjokolade-koek
because I am too beautiful for a black girl
and therefore should not be wearing a doek
en ek moet bly ommie-hoek
so that jou vrou en kinders don’t see
that you do not play by die boek
want swart en wit moet nooit meng nie
maar jy wil nou kroek
and I should know that my behind is all I am good for
en glad nie meer as dit ooit soek
ag nee! My skin is too dark
my English isn’t sharp
and my hair is so coarse!
But my butt…
My butt does wonders for you, of course!
So you drive past dark alleys hoping I will be there
So you can feed your fetid fetish and hope and wish that Oom Hans
Of Tant Sallie don’t see you met ‘n swartjie in jou bakkie
En as jy my sien,
You slow down and slobber
And flash me a twee-honderd-rand noot
And scream: “Kom vat meisietjie, gaan koop vir jou brood”
And you disclose your disgust
At my disapproval and drive past, while people stare at you aghast
Want jy kry dit nie man!
Dis duidelik dat ek is jou Swartjie Bartman

Comments

The usage of everyday speech patterns makes the poetry accessible. A poem build by voices of the land and addressing the ever-refusing to transform socio-political landscape is a necessary risk. Avoid clichés as they weaken the potentially explosive vitalities that surface in Lesedi’s original lines. Keep Writing.

Biography

Lesedi Thwala is a 20-year-old female, born in Itsoseng but grew up in a small town called Lichtenburg in the North West Province. She is currently doing her first year of her Bachelor of Arts at Rhodes University. A die-hard feminist, Motswako rapper and recovering book worm, Lesedi’s love for poetry began as an escape from the challenges she faced in life until a friend discovered one of her poems and forced her to recite it for a group of people. Lesedi is passionate about South African literature and dreams of becoming an author someday.

Lesedi Thwala

Biography

Lesedi Thwala is a 20-year-old female, born in Itsoseng but grew up in a small town called Lichtenburg in the North West Province. She is currently doing her first year of her Bachelor of Arts at Rhodes University. A die-hard feminist, Motswako rapper and recovering book worm, Lesedi’s love for poetry began as an escape from the challenges she faced in life until a friend discovered one of her poems and forced her to recite it for a group of people. Lesedi is passionate about South African literature and dreams of becoming an author someday.

Hansa Pilsner

Hansa Pilsner

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

Featured Poem:

Swartjie Bartman

Featured Poem:

Swartjie Bartman

Jinne, hoekom het julle swartjies sulke mooi boude?
You hideously hiss and hoot while your
Tongue turbulently twirls twixt your teeth and your
Bulge bulbously bulges between your legs
Claiming that I should take it as a compliment
and be an accomplice and acquiesce you
a slice of the sjokolade-koek
because I am too beautiful for a black girl
and therefore should not be wearing a doek
en ek moet bly ommie-hoek
so that jou vrou en kinders don’t see
that you do not play by die boek
want swart en wit moet nooit meng nie
maar jy wil nou kroek
and I should know that my behind is all I am good for
en glad nie meer as dit ooit soek
ag nee! My skin is too dark
my English isn’t sharp
and my hair is so coarse!
But my butt…
My butt does wonders for you, of course!
So you drive past dark alleys hoping I will be there
So you can feed your fetid fetish and hope and wish that Oom Hans
Of Tant Sallie don’t see you met ‘n swartjie in jou bakkie
En as jy my sien,
You slow down and slobber
And flash me a twee-honderd-rand noot
And scream: “Kom vat meisietjie, gaan koop vir jou brood”
And you disclose your disgust
At my disapproval and drive past, while people stare at you aghast
Want jy kry dit nie man!
Dis duidelik dat ek is jou Swartjie Bartman

Jinne, hoekom het julle swartjies sulke mooi boude?
You hideously hiss and hoot while your
Tongue turbulently twirls twixt your teeth and your
Bulge bulbously bulges between your legs
Claiming that I should take it as a compliment
and be an accomplice and acquiesce you
a slice of the sjokolade-koek
because I am too beautiful for a black girl
and therefore should not be wearing a doek
en ek moet bly ommie-hoek
so that jou vrou en kinders don’t see
that you do not play by die boek
want swart en wit moet nooit meng nie
maar jy wil nou kroek
and I should know that my behind is all I am good for
en glad nie meer as dit ooit soek
ag nee! My skin is too dark
my English isn’t sharp
and my hair is so coarse!
But my butt…
My butt does wonders for you, of course!
So you drive past dark alleys hoping I will be there
So you can feed your fetid fetish and hope and wish that Oom Hans
Of Tant Sallie don’t see you met ‘n swartjie in jou bakkie
En as jy my sien,
You slow down and slobber
And flash me a twee-honderd-rand noot
And scream: “Kom vat meisietjie, gaan koop vir jou brood”
And you disclose your disgust
At my disapproval and drive past, while people stare at you aghast
Want jy kry dit nie man!
Dis duidelik dat ek is jou Swartjie Bartman

How does this featured poem make you feel?

Hansa Pilsner

Hansa Pilsner

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

That kiss of the saaz hop, that kiss of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop
It’s clear that you won,t stop, you won’t stop, you won’t stop
Drinking
I have lost hope, I have lost tears, I have said prayers
But does God hear? Does God hear? Does God hear
Me?
Father I have wished, I have contemplated for 20 whole years
Yes, I have waited, I have waited, I have waited
For you to change
Birthdays, speech contests, prize-givings, My Matric Dance
Everytime you let me down I gave you a new chance
But you couldn’t see anything past the brown bottle brewed
With the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop, the kiss of the saaz hop
I needed you to be my Superman
But you were always the drunken stupor-man
Filling the void in my hear with
Empty promises, empty promises, empty promises
That turned into air
Oh! How I wish that you were there
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I cry, sometimes I cried myself to sleep
Because the sharp pieces of the bottle have cut me so deep
Father, you lil’ girl id turning into a woman
Yet you do not see, you do not see, you do not see
Past that brown bottle brewed with the kiss of the saaz hop
And the hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
I yearn for you to love me like you do the kiss of the saaz hop
I yearn for you to take pride in my like you do the first drop
Yet all I get is half-hearted, half or nothing maintenance
That leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth
Than the kiss of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop, of the saaz hop
That hiss of the last drop, of the last drop, of the last drop
It’s clear that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop, that you won’t stop
Drinking…
Hansa Pilsner, what have you done to my father?

Comments

The usage of everyday speech patterns makes the poetry accessible. A poem build by voices of the land and addressing the ever-refusing to transform socio-political landscape is a necessary risk. Avoid clichés as they weaken the potentially explosive vitalities that surface in Lesedi’s original lines. Keep Writing.